A Singaporean In Australia

The cool 10 degrees Celsius air kissed my face lovingly the moment I stepped out of Perth International Airport at 2111hrs with Jen nowhere in sight. I couldn't say for sure that was a feeling of coming home but I felt so, so good that I stopped in my tracks and took a few deep breaths with my eyes closed. The air was crispy light, ordourless and dry like a piece of tissue prata as compared to Singapore's heavier, dampier pre-baked bread dough.

Before long the cold air hugged me from head to toe. Since it was a calm, windless night, I could stand in the open without thick clothing.  Coming back from Singapore at mid year, 10 degrees Celsius never felt that good.

I should have known. Less than 24 hours of the toilet leap, I arrived in Perth on a sunny afternoon with only a haversack. It was my first visit to Australia. I remembered how the immigration officer turned out every single item in my bag like a stand-by-bed inspection in the SAF. He even flipped my underwear and looked through the name cards in my card case. I was told that immigration was strict in Australia but I didn't expect it to be that bad. You know, it was so easy to just put everything down as racism. I could, then turn my nose away from Australia forever so. Most of the time we don't look at ourselves to reflect why we were being treated in a certain way. No, it isn't about who is or isn't at fault, or finding excuses for the inexcusable. Like the old saying goes, it is no use crying over spilled milk. What is important is to find out what caused the incident and make sure it will never ever happen again.

Prior to that visit, I hardly talk to a Caucasian in my entire life. All of a sudden, I had to talk to 2-3 of them at different stations of custom checks. Aussies being Aussies, spoke English that sounded very, well, Aussie. I asked for repeats multiple times, speaking strange sounding English myself. To make it look even worse, I had a full length umbrella hanging (someone requested for one - long story this) on my haversack. To me fair, I looked like someone from a 3rd world country who was well prepared to enter Australia on a tourist visa and overstay. My second visit to Perth was a different experience at the customs. Again, I was hauled up

for a luggage check. This time round, the officer didn't even remove a single object from my bags. I looked at him and asked, "That's it?" He replied, "I think you're good." Tonight I walked past the custom without being checked, just like the previous 3 times prior to this. The progress at the custom was a reflection of migrant life here in general. It gets easier as time goes by in most aspects of life.

Lame as it was, the naked butt jumping moment was anything but funny at that point when it happened. I was left wondering how I could live another day that cold, much less a few weeks of my remaining holiday. Migration was out of the mind. That was until I touched down at Changi Airport at the end of the trip.

I fucking hate TigerAir and I will repeat this a thousand times if I need to. In fact, I even shared a string of sarcasm with Mr Yoda, the young Singaporean chap with a black Vios living in the East of Australia in that whatsapp group about how bad my TigerAir experience would be as I board my flight bound for Singapore from Perth.

As fate would have it, I had a giraffe learning kick boxing seating behind me, a hippo with a large bag of nuts chomping with no qualms of encroaching her arms way into my personal space and tons of fags rubbing their fat arses against me in that aisle seat. A crying baby would therefore complete the perfect storm in an A320. I had a torrid time and couldn't sleep a wink during my 4-5 hours of flight. Thankfully, we would not need to rely on TigerAir for our next return. It was just unfortunate that Tiger was the only viable option within a tight schedule like that. I touched down Singapore feeling like a rag being tossed around by the house cat. Thus, I understood how Brazil players felt at the final whistle.

On my return, I told the guy behind the counter at Changi Airport I needed the window seat. I told him I didn't sleep the previous night and exhaled my dragon breath to prove my point. Instantly, I got my demand fulfilled without a fuss. With a rare lucky star shining upon me, a middle eastern guy was seated on the aisle seat with nobody in between us. He even offered his pen without me asking for it. That might turn out to be my best TigerAir experience ever yet.

I had multiple runs of sleep, despite how I woke each time with extremely sore necks. I was tired enough and slept through the disturbance by plane crew carrying out their work. When I finally had it with sore necks, I switched on my mobile phone, realised I had one final hour to go and let out a sigh. It was then the little girl in front peeked through the gap to give me the brightest smile. I made a funny face at her to acknowledge her attention and she started talking to me. I had to strain my ears because of her soft accented voice where fighting against aircraft noises. She mentioned Peppa Pig and I lazily made an audible snort while my head was still lazily leaning against the body of the plane. The little girl giggled excitedly.

The rest of the hour was melted away by the non stop interaction of the little girl who even grabbed my hand later on to play silly games through the gap that separated us. Before long, the plane landed but the little girl continued to amuse not just me by then, but other passengers listening to her. The man sitting on my row began to tease her as well. It brought smiles to her parents as well as passengers nearby. It made the usually silent wait to be let out of the plane an unusually pleasant experience. I had never walked out of a TigerAir plane feeling that great though it had little to do with the staff or service TigerAir offered.

As a parent I have been asked about my plans on Albany. To be honest, I don't give a hoot about her academic progression so long as she grows up to be a girl who brings smile to people around her just like that little girl I met on the plane. I'll be a contented and proud parent if Albany turns out to be a sensible girl with a great personality. That'll be good enough for me.

I ended up sleeping in his car. He have been going around telling people I am a Sleep God because "I could sleep anywhere." Hmm, did that really happen on regular basis since our secondary school days? My memory is failing me badly. Unfortunately, I stayed true to his claims by falling asleep in the passenger's seat of his car before long, with warm rain drumming occasionally as my lullaby. Ironically, I have always been a light sleeper and hardly can sleep with the presence of a little light and noise. I have a better conclusion. When one is pissed tired, one is da Sleep God.

Little did I expect having to drive in the car I was sleeping in before long. It was a last minute decision, after we realised he had duties to perform. Many of us in Perth tends to think driving on Singapore roads will be a nightmare after we got used to driving in Perth. So for almost 3 years, I did not touch a steering wheel during my revisits in Singapore, not that I really had the chance to do so really. So driving on the SG roads groggy with (even more) messy hair, un-brushed teeth, sticky skin and stinky body was interesting. Interestingly, I took it on like a duck to water, though Uncle Wong might not necessarily agree from his perspectives as the following car behind me. Perhaps they should call me the Car God as well.

I was glad that the organisers knew exactly what they were doing. Their efficiency gave me the opportunity to accompany my friend all the way till the very end. The initial plan was to go as far as I could until it was the time for me to check in at the airport. Uncle Wong kindly dropped me at Changi Airport in his own sleep deprived state with half an hour to spare before I was supposed to check in. I was still in sombre mood alone in the airport. It would be ideal if I could stay around a day more but that was the best I could do in such circumstances.

Changi Airport was amazing as usual, bursting with vigor and excitement. It wasn't difficult to see how easily tourists fall in love with our country with an airport like that. I finally bought my first meal since my short return and ate it while hearing people discussing about the Brazil slaughter in awe. Just a simple meal of Mee Rebus and a cup of teh. Before long I realised my gate was on the 'last call' status. When I realised I got my gate number wrong and how fucking far the correct gate was from my location, I had to sprint a long way with Jen's voice in my mind telling Albany 'Don't run after you eat!' The security guy who did my scanning saw my face and told me, 'Relac brother.' I missed Singapore for things like that. It has always been a pity the other aspects just don't work out for me.

The Ah Lians in wild tiger striped uniform welcomed me to their den that stirred the cautraphobic in me yet again. I slummed to my window seat and slept even before the plane took off. All hail the Sleep God.

Ah Liam is great as ever. When you have a friend who is willing to stay awake at 3.30am, pick you up at the airport then go to work as normal on the following day, you know you never live in vain. When it comes to lucky breaks in money, it has been always shit but when it comes to knowing amazing people in my life, I am a contender for being Top 10 lucky in the world.

Yeah the last minute ticket was expensive for sure but it gave me priceless minutes to chat with Uncle Wong, the man formerly known as Ah Liam. Moments like that has been scarce since we went into the workforce. It gave me an epic few hours sleeping on my sofa with the new family dog trapped between a near stranger, totally frightened of making a move. By afternoon, I dragged my zombie shell to Ah Qin's place to take a look at newborn baby Skyler before anything. The baby was as sweet as the cake Julia made for me the last time round. He yelped a little bit until I was urged to have a go to make friends with Skyler . Thankfully, after a few sniffs at my body ordour, Skyler was knocked out for a good 15 minutes in my arms. He was a good boy and deserved to be praised. Annoyingly, his mother had those superstitious auntie-like traits and chided me for praising her son because he 'would end up being naughty'. Perhaps I should call baby Skyler a very naughty baby, so that he will turn out being a real obedient boy, if that makes any sense (wtf?!). Nonetheless, when I am back the next time round, I will quietly whisper to the baby his compliments (only if he deserves it of course) when his parents are not looking. Heh heh.

Regrettably, the chat with mum was unforgivably short even though we chatted throughout the time I was sober. That was why the shout-chats from the bath rooms were necessary. I took a long time to get to the west, despite the world class public transport system. No, I shouldn't whine about this because I would be told a similar ride in Perth would cost me a few times more and arrive at the time I will be reaching my destination with the Singapore system. I have never taken a public train in Perth so I can't comment on something I don't know.

When I finally reach the familiar void deck I spent countless of days as a teenager, it was heartbreaking to see the bright lights of the wake, knowing fully who it was for. We had an hour or two to ourselves to chat. I was told Singapore was uncharacteristically 'cold' compared to recent days so I should feel lucky about it. I counted my blessings upon knowing that.

It was really good to see the rest of the friends much later at night. They stayed as late as they could but we had to say goodbye to the ones who had to work the following day. The three of us ended up watching how the glorious Brazil team being tore apart by a clinical Germany team. It would be a night and a game in our memories for a long time for sure.

I received terrible news from one of my closest buddies in Singapore. He lost his father in a road accident. Needless to say, he was distraught. My immediate reaction was to return to Singapore to be with my buddy but I had a very hard time convincing the boss to let me go, with work piling up sky high lately. Most of my friends who knew my plans to return advised me against it. In fact, probably 90% of those who I conversed with told me it was more practical to send a lot more money back (that I would have saved for an expensive last-minute air ticket) than to be there because my presence would be nothing much of use in such a situation. Many of these overseas Singaporeans would have experienced similar situations and told me that if I were to be overly emotional about this kind of things, I will have a rough time in future to fly back and forth. The general feedback was that most friends and relatives would understand our situation and forgive us if we only send financial help instead of being physically there like we would if we did not migrate.

With the boss' reluctance and several seemingly logical reasoning such as "Friend's dad is not even your relative, by right no need to return. If family or friend then return,' it was easy to just choose the easy option to stay put. After all, a sudden move back without plans or the mental preparation to be apart from my wife and daughter was a very uncomfortable thought. However to me, it was a no-brainer. I believed I talked about death and funerals before here. I used to be someone who wondered if anyone would attend my funeral when I die, since I have always been somewhat an asshole that most people would rather stay away from. It can be sad to know if I don't even get 10 people to attend my funeral, no? Does that mean I am a failure in life? In the later years, I ditched such a mentally because the logic was terribly flawed. Where funerals are being concerned, some turn up for the dead, some turn up for the living, some turn up because they love, some turn up because they hate. The actual figure has no bearing on the success of the man when he was living.

In my case, I chose to turn up for the living because that is what really matters. He would have asked me to stay put for sure if I were to tell him about my intentions. He might even chide me of stupidly failing to put money to better use. So, I gave him no chance but not telling him. No, I wasn't noble or 讲义气 like a friend told me I was. I wish I am such a great person. A part of this is down to the fact I knew I would live with even more regrets if I chose to succumb to convenience. The rest was down to my perverted perspective of sharing woes. Since my move to Perth, I have missed the weddings of six couples that I would very much love to attend if I had been in Singapore. These are the regrets that I have to live with. However, I honestly think I wasn't missed. When it comes to self valuation, my ego isn't big enough for me to think I am actually significant enough to any of my friends' lives to the level my absence in their wedding will cause a wee bit of grieve. Besides, when it comes to the sharing of the weals, it isn't really difficult to find people. A wedding is a classic example, the same goes for a birthday celebration or a feast to celebrate a career promotion. I can miss weddings with the warm feeling of knowing my friends are happy and that's all I want them to be.

The sharing of woes, however. 

I choose to do that, just in case there isn't enough people around to take their rightful share. The overseas folks were right. My presence was of little use during the funeral. I couldn't chant sutras and I knew nuts about funeral proceeds. Neither did I help to serve visitors or do anything to make my grieving buddy feel better. I served as a reasonable source of distraction at best, a liability that needed to be entertained at worst. Besides, the other close friends were there to give moral support, as expected. Still, I just wanted to be with my friend in times like this, because he'll never walk alone as far as I can help it.

Just realised 2 years went by since I bought Goldilocks, the golden 1999 Daihatsu Pyzar that I drive to work everyday in. It wasn't much of a bargain by paying $2,250 for it but if you read how bothersome it can be to look for cars if you don't have one to go around in the first place, that made the Goldilocks deal reasonable given the circumstances we were in at that point of time. 

I remembered telling Jen I didn't found Goldilocks absolutely sound. In fact, there were niggling problems here and there such as a creaky CV joint on the left which I got the mechanic to replace for about $100 among other minor imperfections. All in all, it wasn't in a condition that most people would buy even for a stop-gap role. I told Jen I wouldn't expect great things from Goldilocks and would be delighted if the car still runs by the end of the second year. (though I would be slightly disappointed if it couldn't last beyond her first year) Having said that, for a car that has been starting up every morning and providing a consistent 15km/L performance, $50 for a full tank that runs for 2 weeks, there was nothing to complain about.

I considered that if Goldilocks could survive for two years, my outlay for the car would be slightly over $1,000 per year. Depreciation you know. With all things considered, admittedly, $1,000 per year would still be a tad expensive for a 15 year old worthless car on the first glance. Still, say if I were to buy a brand new car for $20,000, to achieve depreciation as low as $1,000 per year, I have to be prepared to drive it for 20 years. Hmm, that will be tricky but can be done. The equation changes drastically though, if Goldilocks were to last well into her 4th year, further halving my depreciation to 500 bucks. To achieve the same level of spending with the brand new car today, I will have to drive it for 40 years. I don't know which sounds more impossible, that or getting my CPF 40 years later, considering the fact I am likely to be dead by then. Having said that, Goldilocks has already outperformed my expectations so wishing 2 more years of service from her would be unreasonable.

The dilemma is from this point onward, I have to make a decision to replace the car or spend hard cash on the bigger wear-and-tear items, such as worn tyres. Such items are unavoidable even if I buy a brand new car. After 2-3 years of car usage, changing the car battery or tyres is usually necessary, be it a brand new or used car. Writing this post helped straightening my thoughts, the dilemma was imaginary really. There is only one obvious best choice at the moment.

New wheels for Goldilocks soon. Let's see how far this takes me.

It is time to file our tax here so I will take the opportunity to share with Singaporeans about this yet again. I believed you should have come across many Singaporeans who cried, "Move to Australia good meh? Tax so fucking high. I don't want to be taxed 45%." For some reason, this idea somehow spread like wildfire through the generations. It seems that most Singaporeans have taken this as the truth.

Of course, that claim is far further from the truth. From my previous post [link], I shared how working over-time increased my pay by 65% for the previous fortnight. (I'm paid fortnightly) So I took a look at how much more I was taxed as compared to my usual pay. I found that I was taxed 29.5% for this paycheck, despite the 65% increment. If you can work that out, that actually mean even if I find another job that pays me 65% more on a permanent basis, I will still pay no tax more than 29.5% of my annual income. I could have attach my payslip here to prove my claims but I see no point sacrificing my privacy for thick skulls who choose to believe what they want. Besides, if you are smart enough to work backwards, I have revealed enough information for you to know how much I'm being paid.

My tax on my normal salary is at a much manageable percentage at less than 20%. From a Singaporean's point of view, you may still find this very high. You may even call me a low-wage pissed poor worker in Australia. Yet despite the fact about my low wages and high tax, I am still coping comfortably financially with my wife staying at home full time to look after my young daughter. I supposed that is good enough for me, if not for you.

Will my situation be so miserable if I am being taxed at the legendary 45% rate? I will not mince my words here. Only dumb Singaporeans living in Australia will lament at being taxed 45%. If there is any, I'll gladly swap places. Take my case for example, in order for me to be taxed 45%, my current salary will have to triple or quadruple in order for me to hit that level of tax bracket. Even after the whooping 45% tax, I will still have more than $40,000 of disposable income per annum than my current situation. You have to be insane to moan about that. As a perfectly rational person, I wish I can be taxed 45%.

For the benefit of Singaporeans, who are not used to calculating salary in annual terms, I'll be kind today to convert Australia tax rate (2014) to a monthly salary range to let you better visualise it.

Salary ($ per month)			Tax (lowest range)		Tax (highest range)
1,516			0.0%
3083 - 6,666			9.0%		21.9%
6,667 - 15,000			21.9%		30.3%
15,001 - 19,167			30.3%		45.0%

As we can see, in order be to taxed 45% off my income, I need to be earning $19,000 a month. After tax, I will take home $10,541 per month. Compare that to someone earning $3,000 a month paying a tax rate of 9%, taking home $2,730, will you be complaining about paying a 45% income tax? I know I wouldn't be. All you accounting nerds out there can feel free to audit my calculations.

So do you still think everyone pays 45% of their income to the taxman in Australia now? Perhaps you should share this.

Yesterday I scored a memorable personal victory at the work place. When I first joined the company, the factory operated on the shift of 8 hours. Work began at 8am in the morning and stopped at 4.30pm with only half an hour for lunch. Within a few months, I proposed to the management to change our shift to 6am - 2.30am instead. It made sense to start and end earlier because of the delivery problems that I faced. First, many warehouses close at 3.30pm, including the warehouse of our main client. So it did us no good by finishing a job at 4pm with no one open for delivery. With that justification, I persuaded the management to change our working hours.

My plans were unpopular with the two workers, who tried to use their seniority against the new guy (me). They claimed they could not wake up so early for work. So we met halfway and started work at 7am since. On the personal front, I was disappointed to see the prospect of me knocking off at 2.30pm came crashing down. For work, I knew we would a step further from being optimal in our operations.

We carried on for almost two years until the recent insane about of overtime that we had to do. We are still doing overtime up to now but that will soon come to an end. We have gotten our fortnightly paycheck yesterday. I had a quick glance and saw that my overtime pay helped to increase my income by a whopping 65%! The 20+ hours of overtime actually translated to than a full week of extra salary due to the penalties (1.5x normal days, 2x on Sunday) I was expecting a backlash on this because it wasn't the first time people in the office expressed their unhappiness after they knew how much extra money we were paid. Personally I have been pissed off with this kind of mentality but I won't comment further on this today. Anyway, as expected, the boss came looking for me to talk to me about this after finding his eyes on the ground upon signing our time sheets. I reminded him how desperate he was when he instructed me to deliver "as soon as I can and do over-time as much as I needed to." I was already kind enough not to ask for a bonus by achieving the impossible, wrecking our backs (I'm still hurt) in the process.

The boss told me he did a calculation and found that we only broke even on that big job after factoring our extra labour cost. No profits.

Good.

It was never a better time for the boss to be fully aware of the situation we had been facing. I mean, he have been aware but it has never been clearer now. Nothing strikes the mind of a businessman harder than dollar and cents. With that, I guarantee that the sales team will be extra careful with their quotation and the rest of the management will do a lot more to ensure the quality of work done by our parent company so that we do not see many more repeats of such cock ups that result in my team having to clear the shit that somebody else left behind. That will translate to less over time and profits.

Coming back to my plans two years ago, after the factory people rejected my proposal to start at 6am, I proposed a staggered shift system to the management immediately where I would take the first shift but I was flatly rejected because the boss wanted me to be in the factory at all times to 'look after the boys'. As I was entering my car after work, I locked it again and went up to look for the boss. I told him I had an idea to increase production without clocking over time. Needless to say, he was keen to hear me out and I proposed the staggered hours system once again. Unaware that he had heard and rejected that before, this time he said, "Excellent, please try it out." Never a better time to propose this before the over time flesh wound heals.

I will be starting work at 6am tomorrow from tomorrow onwards, hopefully permanently. The rest of the guys can continue to wake as late as they preferred. With that, I increased our machine production by 2 hours per day without doing over time and I get to knock off at 2.30pm. 

I'm a genius.

I used to think gays and lesbians are acquired traits but now I'm not so sure. It happened that I once knew a girl who was obviously attracted to the opposite sex. We lost contact during my NS days. By the next time I met her, she was a lesbian that went after girls like me. My balls almost dropped and rolled down the gratings to the drain below the bus stop. As how cancer cells or HIV virus change the victims' physical self or how dementia changes the way a person thinks or act, I regarded lesbianism as some kind of disease.

On the other hand, it was much later when my secondary school friends formed a Facebook group and told me they found one of our ex-classmates had 'turned gay'. In retrospect, he might have been gay right from the start. The more we thought about it, the more it made sense. He didn't have interests in girls despite being surrounding by belles all the time, talented in fashion design and stuff like that. Some of us might shudder at the thought of being so close to him like a brother (we were the last all-boy class in QSTS) only to find out much later he was our sister instead. Not me. When I had the opportunity to meet him up for the first time in 2 decades on my last visit to Singapore, I grabbed it. He never changed. Still witty, chatty and spoke with a glint in the eyes. Unlike the past, he never made any attempts to hide his sexual preference. That went to show the Singapore society have evolved to accept the LGBT community. But was that enough?

Recently there was a big deal about white dot, red dot and pink dot movements. Honestly I am not exactly sure what each group is specifically fighting for but it was clear to me that a certain group had crossed the lines of tolerance of another. As a human being and a straight guy, if a man can make himself consistently resist boobs, naturally or not, I say we leave him alone because that seems me to be a remarkable feat just as a Christian abstaining from the seven sins or a Muslim not breaking fast during Ramadan in their entire lives. Why would a man make the decision to take the rod and ditch the channel if he wasn't born that way?

If being  LGBT is a lifestyle choice, what makes a religion? Some may insist they are born into a religion but clearly for the rest, it was a choice. What gives religious people then, the right to ostracize other groups who do not fall into human criteria in their books? As for now, the section 377A of the Penal Code of Singapore states that, "Any male person who, in public or private, commits, or abets the commission of, or procures or attempts to procure the commission by any male person of, any act of gross indecency with another male person, shall be punished with imprisonment for a term which may extend to 2 years." I don't think it is a too much to ask for to repeal this obsolete law. The question lies in whether the LGBT community will fight for further rights such as rights to get married or eligibility to buy a HDB BTO if the government repeals section 377A. I think those claims are too far fetched at the moment and shouldn't be brought into the picture. Since sex is recognised as a basic human need, is it right to criminalised people for having consensual sex? Section 377A or not, the sex will go on.

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Elaborately-decorated themed carriages to improve commuting atmosphere

LTA Director of Corporate Transformation and Futures Agnes Kwek said the authority is seeking to improve the train experience in every possible way. “But, in addition, public transport is very much a shared social space and our interactions with other commuters affect our train experience,” she said. “We’re launching a series of trials to foster a positive commuter culture — be it behaviour, interaction or atmosphere.”